Scotland

The biggest visual issue I have yet to encounter during my time in Europe is the pretty picture of two young lasses on a bus to Glasgow, Scotland, except one of the lasses is missing. The blond one.
So now we were down to one pretty lass but there were still two cameras and two backpacking bags. So I was sure she used to be in the frame. Somehow she snuck out while I was sleeping. Imagine my surprise upon waking that Erika could not be found. As I said to the bus driver, there are only so many places she could have been hiding.
So we started off our fall break with a curious adventure that bordered on serious mishap and I was left standing in Glasgow on a dark rainy night with all our gear and one question: whatÂ’s next?
Fortunately, I found a hostel, found Erika and the rest of the trip was less about mishaps and more about our quest to find good light, dry socks and the Loch Ness Monster.



Our days in Scotland were covered by a heavy layer of clouds. Yet as sunset approached the light always seemed to break through and in that 30 minute window we would race against time to capture the beauty of the landscape.

Whoever called London a rainy city has yet to spend any time in Scotland. Luckily the weather was mild so the rain hardly fazed us. We spent the first day exploring Glasgow. It was a wet, windblown and leaf strewn city. The graffiti along the riverbank is painted over itself in so many layers as to become an abstract design of twisting colors.



Fall is approaching and the color of the leaves is vibrant. They add color to a city, which would otherwise be grey. We meandered down the river until we found the park. It was empty, symmetrical and green. I couldn't wait to head north to the highlands. It is partly in search of space that we decided on our destination. I miss the expanse of the ocean and sky back home. After London, Glasgow is odd in its emptiness, the people, however, are friendly. We met Lachlen who took us to see his art exhibit. 50 or so paintings he did while serving 12 years and 4 months in a Chinese prison for possession of cannabis. The pictures he chose to show tell their own story of his life and emotions during that time. You can also see his progression from painting as a prison pastime and emotional release to talented artist. The first couple of paintings are statements about social injustice, false imprisonment. The next are very stylized paintings, which use symbolism and sharp lines to show his state of mind when first put in prison: confused, scared, "freaked out". Then later images replace those emotions with desires. He makes statements about life in prison and his attempts to break away from their "brainwashing" prisoner resocialization programs. He documents the many beatings he received. 'Stuck in a Corner' shows himself being beaten surrounded by police and prison guards with his desires standing just outside his reach. "Imagination is a powerful tool," says Lachlan.

The next day we rented a car and headed North.



Erika and I spent much our time driving around the Scottish Highlands waiting for the rain to stop and the light to break through the clouds and trying to find people who were outdoors and not hiding inside, in front of the fire with their feet up. Whenever we saw something interesting I would find a place to stop on the narrow curving roads and we would bound out, happy to be free of the confines of the car. We'd jump the fence or the ditch and make our way carefully through the boggy ground until my shoes were wet and muddy enough that it no longer mattered. In this photograph I stood on a small hill near the the loch that was nevertheless slippery with mud and moss and tried to capture the wind. It was so strong that I thought it would blow me over and the sound it made through the brush was a soft roar.


I met Alex Corquodale on our second day driving around the highlands. We had given up on finding people outside and had begun knocking on doors. I was nervous at first but the people were friendly if a little bemused by our interest. Alex, who has been living alone since his wife died answered the door with a cheery "Hellooo!" pleasantly surprising Erika and I. He cheerfully pulled on his jacket and showed us around his old farm.



Alex Corquodale, 76, has been living on his farm in Port Appin, Scotland since 1958. Alex is a widower and retired. He no longer runs the farm, however, he rents out the land during the winter to sheep farmers and he collects old farm tools. Alex has over 40 horse plough harnesses scattered over the property that he buys and restores and four huge old tractors stored away in the barn.

Sun started to set as we drove towards Glasgow. I stopped when we saw a woman in her garden on a lonely stretch of A85 near Crianlarch. We met Joyce Valentine, a 79 year old woman, lonely with a dry wit. Her husband had been a navy officer. They used to live in England and Wales, but they moved here because he wanted to. He died of Cancer shortly after buying the bungalow and never saw it with the furniture inside of it. Joyce has lived here for 20 years by herself, lonely yet amused by the strange happenings on her remote stretch of highland highway. People in car accidents, killing sheep on the road and coming to her for help. One man who insisted the sheep was alive, but the head had been loosened from the body and nearly came off in her hands when she attempted to move it off the road. Two boys who crashed their mopeds and bled all over her bathroom. Her dog Dinky, who's name they had to change at her father's insistence after one incident when he ran down to the road, blocking traffic and her father had to go after him. You can't just yell "Dinky! Dinky! Dinky!" with all those cars and the people staring at you she said. "If this is a joke, I'll kill you," she kept saying to Erika and I. She didn't want any pictures but we're going to send her some anyway.
While Erika was photographing Joyce I went and spoke with her new neighbor, Nick Butler. Nick was friendly but not overly so. He had more of the reserve that I've noticed in people from London. He seemed comfortable in front of the camera but never let his guard down.



Nick Butler, Fashion designer from London decided to move to Scotland with his partner after visiting on holiday. They sold their home in Sussex last November and bought this cottage the following day. "We were lucky," Butler said. "Otherwise we'd have been homeless. Rich homeless people. But still homeless." Butler and his partner have plans to redo the roof and much of the house while still maintaining the traditional architectural style. Butler hopes toeventuallyy be able to build a workshop for himself and continue to design clothing which he'll sell on the Internet. He used to sell his designs in Camden and Portobello Market.





The first time we stopped at the St James Episcopal Church and wandered through the graves with their old Celtic headstones and crosses it was dark, the rain had started to fall in large heavy drops and a family had just arrived bringing the remains of a loved one. We returned the next day and photographed again. The church stands alone on the edge of the highland highway and the loch, with mountains rising up behind it and all around. The headstones themselves stood tall, smoothed by wind and time, and dark as the approaching night.